Axelism
by 2kitsune
Summary: Roxas thinks he knows everything about Axel, but really; he knows nothing at all. Please read, Cute 'n' fluffy with just a hint of smutty


Title: Axelism

Pairing : AkuRoku

Rating : K

Warning: Kissing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts

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You like to think you know everything about Axel, but in the end, you know it isn't true.

You don't know who he was before, though you can only assume it's a diluted version of what he is now – annoying and boisterous, but still your sea-salt ice cream benefactor and, begrudgingly, someone on whom you rely. You don't know why he's so prone to clam up at the mention of certain missions to certain places, and while this piques your curiosity, you _do_ know him well enough to know that prying brings about absolutely nothing positive. You _don't_ know how it is you've managed to become friends, or why he approached you in the first place. Somehow you doubt it's because he holds an affinity for zombie blonds, but any other legitimate reason doesn't exist.

No, when you think about it, you realize there's more to Axel than you could ever catalogue, though you try your best and you've got quite a dictionary of Axelisms at your disposal. You know what it means when his mint refuses to meet your own cyan – deception. You know that when Axel rubs at the back of his neck, leather-clad fingers moving together and squeaking and making that noise that bids your skin _crawl_ – he's at a loss for words. It still amazes you that the charismatic savant that is Axel can become speechless over the smallest things. Usually in response to a question you ask, because as someone without any memories to fall back on, you possess many, _many_ questions.

One of the things about Axel you don't know is a certain look he shoots you when he thinks you aren't looking – you catch it for the first time with your tongue wrapping around the tip of your popsicle, lips tinging cyanotic blue and peripheral vision straining to analyze this look. It's a new one – Axel's eyes are hazy around the edges, almost… soft. At first, you think the ice cream's going to your brain, because _Axel_? _Soft_? But no, a few more seconds of the gaze and you're sure. It hits your brain's wall like a fast-moving tram – mind screeching to a grinding halt with calls of '_does not compute!_' and '_error! error!_'

You catch it more and more now that you're actually looking. The next time is after a mission in Land of Dragons with Demyx and you're stumbling over your snow-sopping boots toward the bathrooms and the promise of a hot shower and _oh_, what you wouldn't give for a cup of the melted chocolate you came across in Wonderland – of course, it made you shrink, but you'd rather be trampled on than lose your toes to frostbite – and suddenly, there's a familiar set of hips – and you realize for the first time that Larxene isn't off-base in calling them chick-hips, because every belly dancer in Agrabah would seethe at the sight of those hips in motion – and then there's a hand beneath your chin, fingers wrapping around your jaw and lifting your gaze. You're flushed from the cold, snow melting slowly in your hair, making it stick to your forehead and the corner of your lip. And there it is – the look, the one you just can't fathom. You would ask Demyx, but the boy is only good with questions about non-important things. You would ask Zexion, but your Superior is still frustrated about you getting his Lexicon sopping wet after your mission to Atlantica. You would ask Saix, but Saix is Saix and you imagine he would rather ingest his own toenails than assist you in any fashion.

So you sit and stew as the days roll on in the same linear fashion – clock tower sunsets with the tang of sea-salt in your mouth – the pattern only broken by the gaze you seek so fervidly to understand. Axel's demeanour mimics the consistency of a sea-salt ice cream bar, with some days being breathtakingly smooth and sweet, others littered with clumps of too much salt and your teeth ache at the bitterness. Sometimes, Axel comes back from a mission angry, and sometimes you get into fights. Demyx calls them 'lovers' quarrels,' and you don't know what that means, but you do know that you almost always end up in your room after these bouts of anger, legs tucked tight to your chest and a stiff ball of hurt snagged in your throat. You try to swallow around it but it only makes your chest, throat, and eyes hurt more. You wonder if you're defunct, because you're sure that episodes like these makes you _feel _something, and if there's one thing you've learned from Xemnas's sprawling monthly expounds, it's that _feeling _things isn't _normal_ for a Nobody.

In your seventh month in the Organization, you and Axel get into it bigger than ever before. You're angry and upset because Axel, in his carelessness, wounded a civilian in Land of Dragons. The woman's hands and arms were singed terribly, and though you turned to help, Axel was quick to grab your arm and twist and turn and bark out orders to "ignore her, she's not the goal." It angers you that Axel can act so, well, heartless, and when you tell him so, he sees it fit to yell and rant to you, in plain view in the middle of the Gray Room and at least three other members, about how pretending to have feelings doesn't make them any less false.

And, though you know you shouldn't let it, his words offend you more than any words said before. Because lately, you've noticed more than Axel's gaze. You've noticed a tingle in your hands when you sit next to the flame-wielder on the clock tower, the sun bleeding reds and yellows and pinks, and once you've ingested your ice cream (at a glacial pace comparatively speaking), you'll knit your fingers together and shiver and sigh and wonder how it would feel to just reach over and take Axel's hand, to trace the outline of his fingers, to pull away the glove and find if his skin is soft to the touch, or callused and worn like your own. You see the prince and princess from the desert kingdom once on a mission, and they do something you've wanted to try on Axel for days now – press their lips together.

At first, it repulses you, the thought of allowing the same lips that swallow food at the speed of light and take drags from cigarettes when they're graced with a mission to the Dark City to touch yours. You can't imagine how any pleasure is derived from something so personal, so… intimate. But the more nights you spend with your eyes pinned to the barren white of your ceiling, the more you warm to the idea. The idea that maybe, you do feel something. That maybe, you could press your lips to Axel's and it would mean something.

It's after your grandiose throw down in the Gray Room that you hear the knock on your door – it's become predictable by now. It's part of the process for your fights. Next, you know the door will open and Axel will spill into your room, making the trek toward you in your chair at snail's pace – slower than you when you eat your ice cream, slower than the time it takes Marluxia's flowers to grow. And you know he'll say he's sorry, and you know you'll say its okay, but this time, you're not so sure. You think that maybe, this time, it isn't okay.

Your chest clenches when you feel a hand on your face. Skin against skin and your cheeks heat when you realize that Axel's removed his gloves. The skin of his fingers is soft, much softer than your own, and you're surprised (pleasantly so) to find that his grip is warm, almost more so than should be comfortable. You feel your eyes flicker upwards, and your throat catch at the look Axel gives you – the one he spares when he's sure you're otherwise occupied – and it's facing you dead-on, green soft yet still somewhat guarded, tinged with regret.

"I'm sorry, Rox," he says, and it's so quiet, so quiet that if you had been even a foot or two further back, you might not have heard him. And then he does something you don't expect. He leans down, and his lips press against your forehead. Those, you find, are a little rougher than the skin of his fingers and your stomach flops about in the strangest way – you've never felt like this before. Your entire body simmers with an unfamiliar warmth, and between the rough skin of his lips and the soft skin of his fingers, you're sure that you'll melt beneath Axel's touch if he keeps this up.

It's what happens next that shoots a crack through your entire being. Because Axel, and you're not sure if he intended to do this or if you were the one who rose the extra few inches, but somehow your lips end up pressed together, and you're fairly certain your insides are well on their way to lodging themselves in your throat. The touch sends a flood of hot chocolate through your entire torso, and your fingers feel like they've been dipped in sea-salt ice cream batter. So you do the logical thing and reach up to twine your fingers with Axel's (after you fumble about to remove your gloves of course), and the redhead's skin against yours feels every bit as nice as you thought it would. You (and you will deny this vehemently later) positively _squeak_ when you feel Axel's tongue graze your bottom lip in tandem with the plush skin of a thumb stroking across the back of your hand, and in an instant the moment breaks and the redhead pulls away to laugh at you. His laughter is uproarious, the kind that makes him bend over and rest his weight on his stomach, one hand leaving yours to clutch at his thighs for balance and you're so torn between turning to goo and being positively mortified that you smack Axel clean across his face.

The redhead's eyes drop their mirth like a hot potato, but you're quick to soothe with a press of your lips to the pyro's cheeks.

And when he tinges his own shade of pink and his eyes soften around the edges, you realize that you still don't know everything about him, and probably never will.

But for the first time, you know enough about Axel to know it doesn't matter. Because you know that Axel feels for you like you do for him, no matter what Saix says or Xemnas preaches. And between the completion you feel when he twines his arms about your waist and the warmth of his breath against your ear, you realize this is enough.

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So, how was it? I tried a new writing style, but I wont be using it often. Please **REVEIW.**


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